


Epiphany

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ambulon discovers he isn't the only one who doesn't quite 'fit in' on the Lost Light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All this time reading MTMTE and _why haven't I thought of this pairing before?!?!_
> 
>  ~~May turn this into a chaptered fic because I _so_ wanna get into smut of these two after establishing plot.~~  
>  Edit: I totally have because I totally need the smut.

Assorted vibrations made Ambulon's plating rattle as he sank further into the dark corner, the deep thrum of the ship's engines nearly suffocating the rhythm of his spark. The belly of the Lost Light was the loudest area he could find to retreat to on his breaks, cocooned by the hisses and clangs until his entire being was focused on only audial input. Not being able to hear approaching footsteps was potentially dangerous; but on the upside, no one else could hear  _him_ either.

This was as safe as it could get.

Ambulon sighed, resting his arms on his bent legs and dropping his head between them. In-vent. Ex-vent. Slow, careful, quiet. Hidden. Alone. 

Ambulon's working concept of 'safety' didn't sit well with First Aid. The nurse hadn't understood what he called Ambulon's 'anti-social' tendencies when they'd first met; once he  _had_ , First Aid's frustration had melted into pitying looks and soft invitations after shift, and Ambulon honestly didn't know which he preferred. Shame, regret, and an ingrained fear of those around him still confused him, made him  _snap_ sometimes. 

The disappointed nods from First Aid were, somehow, the worst of all.

But down here, curling into the shadows of the rumbling engines, Ambulon could temporarily revert to a younger self, confused and small and unsure and _that was okay_. He didn't have to pretend, endure the insensitive questions, make nice with mean patients, or avoid the other medic's too-gentle suggestions. He could be vulnerable admist the large nonjudgmental machines. It wasn't a perfect system, but it was the only comfort he'd been able to take for himself as an adult.

He jerked, startled when his systems pinged him for a soft reboot. Tired, he was  _so_ tired, but he couldn't recharge down here. Best to power down behind a locked door instead of in the open, even if several of the mechs in charge could override it. Wearily he rolled his neck, alarmed to find he'd slipped into light recharge for several kliks. He tamped down the instinctual panic and groaned, uncurling to stretch up toward the ceiling, his shoulder joints popping in protest-

Ambulon froze as two pinpoints of blue stared back at him. A second later he yelled, scrabbling backwards as his gyros spun, throwing him off-balance and back to the floor.

"It's okay," a familiar voice said urgently as a hesitant hand reached from the darkness. "It's okay, really, calm down."

Ambulon pressed his back to the wall, fuel pump pounding, dizzy from the rush of natural boosters. "What- Uhm-,"

"Sorry." Drift stepped into a sliver of light, wearing a grim smile. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's- It's fine." Ambulon gripped his hands together, his residual shaking marking thin scrapes in his paintjob. "S'fine."

Drift watched him for a few seconds longer before nodding, his gaze dropping away and to the side. The loud silence stretched between them, making Ambulon draw his legs close. He wasn't going to get up now- he'd have to move past Drift to leave, and he hadn't quite shaken off his mental reprieve of vulnerability yet.

To his surprise, Drift gracefully dropped to the floor, crossing his legs fussily and resting his hands on his knees as his optics dimmed to match their surroundings. 

That was... odd, that Drift had chosen to stay. Or- was  _Ambulon_ the intruder? Was this Drift's chosen space too, and they simply hadn't crossed paths before now? Would Drift be angry, if that was the case? He didn't  _look_ upset, but he knew enough about Drift to know he didn't  _ever_ want to anger him. 

Too alert to relax again, Ambulon kept his gaze firmly on the warrior's, determined to return the stare. As worrisome as Drift's sudden appearance could be, Ambulon had no issues defending his hiding place. Drift was less intimidating than the rest of the officers; though the warrior often visited the medbay just to teasingly harangue Ratchet, he'd frequently sent First Aid and Ambulon into giggling fits once Drift goaded Ratchet into yelling. But Drift didn't just show up unannounced when Ratchet was on shift; he always dropped by when the patient volume was high, personally delivering requested supplies and quietly offering assistance. 

The first time Drift had grabbed a mop and waved it at Ambulon, asking if he could be any use for a few kliks, Ambulon had dropped an entire tray of surgical instruments. Oh, Ratchet had been _so_ angry, and Drift had quickly gathered all the tools and volunteered to re-sterilise them himself. 

Of all the Autobots on the ship, Drift had been the one Ambulon had kept a wary optic on. In general, Ambulon knew how to handle Autobots now; they were as varied as Decepticons, but they usually stopped short of physical violence. Learning how to navigate their complex social norms was tiresome but worth the effort, as Ambulon honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been abused. Physically, at least; Pharma had apparently done quite the job of wrapping his and First Aid's processors into continuous loops of anxiety.

But Drift? No,  _Deadlock_ \- that was who Ambulon was nervously waiting for. Even Whirl's random threats and violence paled in comparison to Deadlock's history. Ambulon had seen the vids, knew how favoured the powerful warrior was; there was no way to erase those acts, habits,  _instincts_ , just as he himself couldn't. 

Ambulon could see glimpses of the Decepticon at times. It was the way Drift's hands immediately moved to weapons that weren't there when First Aid stubbed his pede and screamed; the way Drift's optics briefly settled with a challenging glare on the largest, strongest frame when entering a room; how Drift stood where he could keep everyone in sight at all times. It was in the way he moved, the overly careful way he spoke, how his usual smile would sit uncomfortably on his face as if he wasn't quite sure how it got there.

And yet, time had passed and Drift had laughed, said prayers over the dead, told bad jokes, cleansed Ratchet's aura when he wasn't looking. He overpowered Deadlock's instincts and kept pushing and kept going, even when Ambulon knew it was painful to do so.

Just like him.

"You okay?"

Ambulon started again, crashing back to reality as he blinked at Drift. The question had been soft, but not like First Aid's constant fussing. Those two words were simple but genuine. As if Drift actually cared about his response.

Ambulon never knew how to respond to questions about his well-being. Autobots were obsessed with verbally assessing other's mental states, which perplexed Ambulon to no end. He was in obvious good health, fueled and working near optimum capacity. Why ask how he  _felt?_  That was completely irrelevant.

Was that what Drift was asking, or was it simple habit? Autobot manners? A sly dig at meeting in this usual place?

He sighed, resisting the urge to duck his head. His token reply he'd learned to give First Aid would hopefully work. "Feel fine, thanks."

Drift nodded.

Ambulon waited, growing nervous again. If Drift had asked out of politeness, shouldn't he respond further? But, if he hadn't, would Drift get annoyed if he did? As a Decepticon, there would've been no question; Ambulon would've remained silent.

But that wasn't him anymore, as much as people liked to whisper.

"What about you?" Ambulon blurted.

Drift's optics flared once, the fingers on his joints curling into the seams. Ambulon's spark whirled uncomfortably, worried by the heavy silence that followed his question. Had that been too much? Certainly he'd asked after Drift's health while working, but this was vastly different. They were alone together, in the dark, hidden away from the rest of the ship. Were there different rules that applied here?

And then he saw Drift relax, venting a small puff of warmed air. "I feel better being down here. Thank you."

And Ambulon  _knew_. Deadlock was still alive, still hesitating, still afraid of the same fears Ambulon held so close, but he wasn't  _here_ with them. It was just Drift smiling back at him from across the walkway, the 'flaky spiritualist' that chased First Aid with playful growls and hugged Ratchet and saved all the best puns for Ambulon just to make him laugh. Deadlock would never have listened, but  _Drift_ truly did care what his answer had been.

"You're welcome," Ambulon smiled as he stood, then grimaced when a hip joint ground against an internal gear. "I... feel better too, so, uh. I should recharge. Early shift tomorrow."

Drift glanced up, smile widening as he reached for him, palm up, inviting; Ambulon offered a hand, a small current passing through the contact as he helped heft Drift to his pedes. 

"Didn't you just get here?" Ambulon asked curiously.

"I found you recharging and thought it best to not leave you unprotected," Drift replied smoothly, squeezing his hand lightly before letting go.

That small gesture shouldn't have made such a large amount of heat rise through his backstruts. Ambulon finally did look away, his smile disappearing. "That- means a lot."

Drift shrugged;  _not a big deal_.

But to Ambulon it  _was_ , and he wanted to say it, except Drift was still standing so close he could feel the warrior's heat, the tentative curious brush of Drift's fields against his own, and the words died in his throat.

"Wanna get a drink?" Drift's smile was lopsided, more natural. "Might help you recharge."

"Drink with  _you?_ " Ambulon's optics widened, brightening in surprise. 

"Why not?" Drift's enthusiasm ebbed as a thread of uncertainty pulsed through their overlapped fields. "Unless you don't want to, of course."

Whatever  _this_ was, it was worth the risk. Ambulon nodded so quickly his gyros upset again, making him take a bracing step forward. "Yeah, let's go. I want to."

The bright grin returned, filling Ambulon with a heady relief. "Great," Drift said as he gestured ahead toward the exit. "And hey, if the high grade doesn't work..."

Ambulon stumbled, his chassis suffusing with warmth as his processors spun. "Is that an  _offer?_ " he said in a rush, staring at Drift in disbelief. It  _sounded_ like it, but- but-

"It's there," Drift replied calmly, rolling one shoulder, the shiny pauldron catching the light. "No pressure."

Ambulon snorted, too amused and too tired to question his good fortune. "I believe you."

A gentle touch on his arm made him look over; Drift still had that natural sweet smile and Ambulon's fields flared happily. "Good."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambulon frets over things he knows and things he doesn't know and where Drift fits into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent the rest of my weekend writing the new OTP.  
> No regrets.

Drinks with Drift had been just that: sipping- and later guzzling- fancy-named drinks beside Drift. Although Ambulon had felt Drift's conviction when he'd said 'no pressure', the medic kept waiting for the next nudge- surely Drift would start dropping overt hints once overcharged. It was only when they were both halfway to being completely smashed that Ambulon began to relax and enjoy the evening.

And  _what_ an evening it had been. Drift was popular, which Ambulon had known beforehand, but he was still surprised by the sheer volume of mechs that stopped by to greet him and exchange gossip. Ambulon had shrunk back into the cushioned seat the first time someone had given him a curious glance, but Drift had smoothly included the medic in every conversation, asking his opinion or for more rumours that might've passed his way. Amazingly, Drift had even chased off a few friends after they'd made to sit down with them, claiming he was tired and had a few things to wrap up with Ambulon. It was a small lie of omission, another nuance of Autobot society Ambulon had adapted to fairly quick. 

When they weren't interrupted, Drift kept up a steady stream of stories and good-natured complaints about his work. Ambulon ended up braced on the table, chin in his hands as he listened to the longer versions of tales Drift had alluded to while they were on shift. He even volunteered a few anecdotes himself, quickly finding Drift laughed the loudest at any medbay accidents that involved Ratchet. It didn't quite feel like they were just talking shop as they sniggered over mishaps and pranks, grinning conspiratorially at each other over their refilled drinks. 

By the time Swerve shoo'd them out the door, they were clinging to each other for support as they swayed down the hall together. They reached Ambulon's hab suite first and Drift had teased him for getting the entry code wrong three times. When he'd leaned into the doorjam for support, he'd turned to see if Drift was alright and was shocked to find the warrior upright, steady on his pedes. 

"You're not drunk?!" Ambulon had blurted, feeling an odd curl of betrayal deep in his gut. However, Drift had nodded and then stumbled to the wall to prop himself up. Then Drift had leveled a stare at him, their earlier easy manner dimmed somewhat before he spoke.

"I can hyperprocess," Drift had admitted quietly.

Ambulon frowned immediately. That was rare these days, but not unheard of. It had been common pre-War; mechs who lived in the gutters had found a semi-dangerous way to distill nutrients from nearly anything they encountered, including drugs and transfluid. Drift would be able to throw off the severe inhibitions of high grade by hyperprocessing it, but the cost on a frame was substantial, especially with repeated use. "No' good," he'd slurred, shaking a finger at Drift, who stiffened at his admonishment. "That makes a  _lot_ of nasty byproducts. Clog your system. I'll drag your aft into the medbay if you do it again."

Drift had laughed then, reaching for Ambulon to brace himself as he shook with mirth, and the touch had been  _so_ soft,  _so_ warm and yet still no hint of coercing him into the berth-

" _Ambulon!_ "

Ambulon started, nearly dropping the stack of blankets he'd just retrieved from the washers. First Aid was glaring at him, his visor overly bright as he pointed at him.

"Are you just going to stand there for  _another_ five kliks, or are you going to help me move this berth?"

"Oh! Oh, sorry." Ambulon set the blankets aside before rushing over, smiling apologetically at the nurse. First Aid's stern expression melted immediately at the apology, even huffing in amusement as he and Ambulon shimmied the berth back against the wall. The last patient had been paranoid about his shot, fighting both he and First Aid as they pinned him down. Getaway, bless his spark, was absolutely  _terrible_ about voluntary medical care. Fortunately Skids had been there to lend another pair of hands to keep his friend still, and Ambulon chuckled at the memory. "So glad Skids brought him down this time. He's stronger than he looks, and that's saying something."

"I dunno, I think I preferred that time when Cyclonus just kinda towered over him and glared him into submission," First Aid laughed.

"So glad Rewind caught that," Ambulon grinned, moving to pick up the stack of bedding again. "Hey- think fast!"

First Aid turned, then stumbled backwards as one of the blankets smacked into his face. " _Oof!_  Ambulon, no- no playing around in the medbay!"

"You don't sound all that scary," Ambulon replied teasingly, shaking out one blanket before spreading it on the berth. 

"I'm not." First Aid laughed again, shaking his head before he mirrored him. "I want whatever you had this morning, though. You're- I haven't seen you this happy in a while. Maybe never?"

Ambulon straightened, his hands stilling, and First Aid hurried over with a worried expression.

"No! No, don't stop, please, I didn't mean anything by it," the nurse said in a rush, patting Ambulon's arm affectionately. "I'm just happy you're happy, okay? I don't care why or how, I'm just happy with you."

A tentative smile curled Ambulon's mouth as he covered First Aid's hand with one of his own. "Thanks, 'Aid."

First Aid's visor flashed merrily, then he leaned in to whisper, "Okay, maybe I'm a  _little_ curious?"

Ambulon laughed, shoving the nurse away. "Get back to work, slacker."

"Pfft. Okay,  _Ratchet._ "

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While First Aid didn't press for details, Ambulon spent the rest of his shift panicking over an hypothetical answer to his question. He _knew_ he was desperate for acceptance of any kind- thanks, Pharma, for so kindly pointing that out to the point the very thought still made Ambulon's tanks churn. He _knew_ he needed validation to work on his flagging self-esteem, as Rung had gently told him during their single required meeting, and it  _shouldn't_ be something that increased his anxiety and shame.

Ambulon sat heavily on his berth, staring down at his hands. Was this all it took to throw him into this whirlwind of emotion? A few sweet smiles, a offer to interface and forget for a night, and several cubes of fancy high grade and Ambulon was about ready to  _melt_ into Drift's broad hands. Actually, if he hadn't been keenly aware of Drift's personal history, he probably would've woken up in his berth this morning.

Then again, why was he so worried? There had been some vile experiences he'd survived, but there had also been plenty of mutually pleasurable sessions with patients and superiors through the vorns and had little reason to believe this would be any different. Drift faithfully made an obvious effort to make Ambulon laugh and feel comfortable. Barring any violent flashbacks- which Ambulon wouldn't rule out completely- he was confident Drift would be just as affable in the berth as across a bar table.

So... why did he feel so hesitant?

True, it had been a while since the last time, and that had been a hurried, bittersweet interface quietly shared in First Aid's small berth for stress relief and simple warmth. Ambulon still wasn't sure how Pharma had found out, but the resulting screamed lecture had put him off fragging Autobots, and that had been that. Any needs he had he took care of alone, but that wasn't want he wanted forever. He definitely did want this, at least at some point, even if it wasn't Drift.

Plus, he knew Drift had interfaced with others on the ship, and none of them had ended up in the medbay afterwards. It wasn't a lot of data to work with, but it was all positive results.

Maybe... Maybe it was the way Drift  _hadn't_ pushed for it. Not that Ambulon was complaining; respect from superiors was a  _very_ new concept and he was thrilled he wasn't being jerked around on a whim. But it was so out of the norm, so far removed from his experiences, he wasn't quite sure what to do now. Yes, that had to be it! 

So... How could he find out what to do?

There had to be some sort of protocol he was unaware of, he just had to figure out who to ask. That was a frightening prospect all by itself; Ambulon personally knew very few mechs on the Lost Light, and now he felt a pang of regret for all those times he'd turned down First Aid's invites to parties or the bar. At the very least he might've observed how others handled this situation and followed suit. A bit late to gather a pool of resources to draw upon; who knew how long Drift's offer would still stand? 

Mentally Ambulon ticked through the list of Bots he had at least spoken to since boarding the ship. Most were immediately discredited, though he briefly lingered on Ultra Magnus. He knew rules within rules, but Ambulon felt distinctly uncomfortable imagining asking the imposing mech about socially acceptable terms for interfacing. That... just didn't feel right. Did Magnus even interface? 

Ambulon forced a shudder through his systems; sometimes his processors wandered in areas he truly did _not_ want to explore. He continued down the woefully short list until he happened upon a pair of names that made him pause. Drift did not seem particularly close to them, so there was less chance of them blabbing to the warrior before he'd made a decision. Yes, they would be able to help him, if he could just voice the question without stuttering. 

No time like the present, was there?

Ambulon rocked to his pedes, hurrying out the door and rushing from hallway to lift and back down another. Fortunately his ping was answered almost immediately, and he plastered on a smile to cover his mounting anxiety.

"Well, hey Ambulon," Rewind greeted him cheerfully. "What's up? And if you say  _'not you'_ , I'm slamming the door in your face."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ❤


End file.
